


Life Immitates Art

by batmanisabanana



Category: One Direction
Genre: Angst, Bottom Louis, Daddy Kink, Drugs, Fluff, Harry speaks french, Light Bondage, M/M, Older Harry, Painter Harry, Smut, Top Harry, implied alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batmanisabanana/pseuds/batmanisabanana
Summary: Harry is a painter. Louis is his favorite piece of art.





	Life Immitates Art

**THEY MET WHEN DUSK** began to settle and the sky bled black. It wasn't in a club where the blaring music called all kinds of people into the night. Rather it was when a man decided to take a walk in the vacant park to clear out all thoughts of incompetence. In the past months— Harry Styles had been sans inspiration when it came to the delicate strokes of his paintbrush. His canvas, when he chose to gather utensils out and curate a draft had looked like a nasty mesh of cliché surrealism that transcends into a fucking amateur abstract.

It is as he drags his feet begrudgingly onto the rocky pavements when he notices that he is not at all alone in the park; there is someone sat on the bench sitting crossed-legged who seems to be staring blankly at the abyss. Harry walks faster, curious now of the silhouette of what looks to be a girl with a pixie cut. As he moves closer, he sees the head of the girl peering up and that's when Harry realizes that this is no girl but a boy. No, that's not right. The first thing that comes to his mind when two diamonds scathed his green orbs was this —i _s beauty_. Harry gapes; he was not expecting to stumble upon an angel tonight.

Said angel looks to become defensive as Harry stares him down longer than necessary for two strangers under the twilight. "Uh," his speech is tentative, yet it held daggers within it. "Can I help you, sir?"

Harry's teeth snatches into his bottom lip. He shakes his head before smiling. "You are damn beautiful," he says, unable to stop himself. The boy looks uncomfortable, beginning to stand up. He's dressed in a big sweater but he still looks cold. His jeans were a bit baggy, but Harry can still see the swell of his ass. "Okay." Is his only response, walking away with a nod. For a second, Harry is taken aback by the sudden rejection. Surprised that he had been blatantly disregarded just like that.

He catches up when the boy passes by a streetlight, and he almost reaches out to grab at his arms but he pulls back and calls out for him instead.

The boy turns around sharply; he is so beautiful Harry can't find words. His cheeks are high, his skin is clear and his eyes are so blue and it is furnished by a full set of lashes. "What do you want?" He asks, clearly trying to intimidate and that's when Harry realizes how fucking creepy he's acting and coughs out a laugh.

"I'm sorry," Harry stands up straighter. "I'm not a creep, I swear." He chuckles when he hears the boy mumble something under his breath. "I paint." Harry tells him, "I like to paint beautiful things," his voice is smooth like velvet caramel, and he brings his teeth out for a smile. "I'd like to paint you."

The boy's delicate eyebrows begins to crease, and Harry feels that a sarcastic quip is about to come.

"Is that some kind of metaphor?" The boy bites. Harry's gaze follows his tongue as he licks his lips. "Do you think— that just because I'm alone in this goddamn park that I'm some kind of prostitute or something?"

Harry laughs but the boy looks unimpressed. "What's your name?" He inquires then, watches delighted when the boy's eyebrows shot up. "Don't snap at me, darling, I would just like to place a name on that gorgeous face of yours." He muses, smiling so wide his cheeks are beginning to ache.

The boy flusters and a blush coats his cheeks. He's so damn beautiful Harry can hear his paintbrush calling his name— begging to paint this angel and capture his beauty into a canvas.

He looks like he's ready to say another spiteful comment but then, with a quiet voice, he mutters, "M' Louis."

Harry beams as if the sun was trapped within his bones. "Louis? Is that french, _joli garçon_?"

"I guess. I'm only from here though."

 _Louis_ brings his arms closer to his body, hugging himself and Harry watches him shiver when a cold breeze passes them. He takes off his coat, draping it on his companion's shoulders. Louis' cheeks grows redder, Harry swears he has never seen such beauty all his life. He's pleased that the boy did not refuse his coat, he grins as he watches Louis pull the lapels of his coat tighter onto his body, almost swallowing him up.

"You've never been to France, beauty?"

Louis shakes his head no. He looks up at Harry through his eyelashes momentarily before his gaze directs itself down to his own feet.

"You should. Everyone always brags about the beauty of the Eiffel tower, but the old cathedrals there are simply exquisite. They can almost contend to you."

Louis giggles. And Harry thinks that he would like to paint out the melodic sounds that comes out of this boys mouth. "That sounds beautiful, but it'll probably take me a lifetime before I can afford a plane ticket alone."

Harry smirks. "If you let me paint you, If you become my muse— I'll take you wherever you want to go." He's inching closer to Louis, hoping that he won't shy away. When there is only a hairsbreadth of space between them, Harry reaches his hand towards Louis' face, smoothing the tips of his finger on the highest point of Louis' cheeks before gliding them on his fringe to tuck a small strand of hair to the slope his ear.

Louis breathes in. They're so close now, Harry has yet to pull his hand away as they rest on the crook of Louis' neck softly. When Louis looks up; Harry swears the world stops turning for a split second. The moment stretches on and on; but Harry isn't worried, not even the slightest bit, because he knows that Louis will give him the answer he desired.

"Okay."

_And that's how their story began._

 

*** * * ***

 

Louis' moan turns into a breathless gasp, his back arches off the silk duvet as Harry licks into him slowly, almost like he's savoring his taste. His legs are spread wide with his feet flat on the bed, Harry between his thighs as he holds either side of Louis' hips to keep him in place.

His breathing is harsh, uncontrolled and irregular, with his eyes shut tight. He wants to pull at Harry's hair— but his wrists are tied to the bed with Harry's favorite scarf.

"My love, you taste so good." Harry blows cold air into his hole, before going back to lick a flat stripe over it. Louis' body shakes as he lets out a cry, and Harry points his tongue before sliding it inside of his boy.

"Ahh, daddy!" Louis mewls when he feels the wet muscle enter him, and by instinct he begins to close his thighs, clamping it around Harry's head. He's trying to twist his hands out of the lock of the scarf; but the hold it has on his wrists is solid.

Harry groans and Louis can feel him _everywhere_. Suddenly, the marks Harry left all over his body seems to be pulsating –reminding him that he is a living doll. The realization that he's not only Harry's fucktoy, but his art— making him salivate. He moans louder now, knowing Harry loves hearing him.

Harry doesn't stop fucking him with his tongue, instead he goes faster with deeper strokes. His mouth encloses around the outer rim, sucking as his tongue stays in place inside Louis, the tip gliding over his spot.

He pulls away before he flattens his tongue over Louis' entrance once more, one last long lick before sitting back on his heels. His hands smoothes down from his hips to the sides of his thighs, and when Louis opens his eyes he sees Harry's gaze following the path he's making with his hands with his mouth hanging open. Louis stays put, allowing Harry to admire his body, every crevice and crease. He stretches his back towards Harry, silently asking for praise.

The man looks up— his pupils are dilated and the edges are almost encompassing the entire green of his eyes. "My beautiful boy," he croons, crawling up towards Louis' face. "You are incandescent, no painting compares to you." He presses his lips to Louis' for a fleeting moment, "—you are an art of your own."

Louis' breathes are shaky as he lets it out. He's panting, his body is on fire. "Daddy," he calls out, unsure of what to ask. " _Daddy_ ," it's the only word he seems to be capable of saying.

Luckily Harry understands. He knows Louis' body better than himself, knows what Louis is asking for before even he does. "I know, my love, I know." His lips captures Louis', a tangle of tongues dancing between their lips, in their mouths– and Louis can taste himself on Harry's tongue.

"I think you're ready for me now, aren't you, love?" He slides smoothly off the mattress, and Louis watches him pop open the button of his slacks. Louis' breath hitch when Harry slides down his trousers, his boxers coming off with it. His cock bobs as he lets it free, tip slapping on his stomach. Harry takes hold of his cock, tugging at it gently as he watches Louis, eyes dragging down from his head to his toes.

He takes the bottle of lube next to Louis by the bed, snipping the cap open before taking a dollop of the clear liquid— spreading it all over his tip to his shaft.

He climbs back to the bed; knocking Louis' legs wide open to fit between them, his hand holding his cock as he does. Louis drops his head back to the feathered pillows when he feels Harry's tip rubbing over his hole, circling around his rim, but not pushing in yet. It riles up his body, goosebumps spreading all over his skin.

"Talk to me, _mon amour_." Harry chides, kissing over the spots he left behind. He keeps on rubbing the tip of his cockhead to Louis' hole, and he pushes in slightly when Louis whimpers. " _Mon petit garçon français_.."

" 'addy," Louis whines, insatiability for Harry's cock can be heard in his tone. "Please fuck me." He ruts his hips forwards, trying to get more of Harry's shaft inside him. Harry groans above him, pushing in further into Louis' body, until his hips met Louis' pelvis. His entire cock fitting inside the boy.

"Ah, you're so tight. My baby." Harry slumps forward suddenly, Louis' body jolting in pleasure when Harry's tip met his prostrate. Harry's now face-to-face with his boy, elbows trapping Louis' head inside them.

He pulls away until only the tip remains inside and Louis locks his ankles behind the small of Harry's back. Harry slams his dick inside, grunting as he feels Louis tighten more around him, on his cock. "You feel so fucking good, baby boy."

Louis shrills and bites at his bottom lip. His body is being pushed forward by the force of Harry's thrust, bedpost banging on the wall. His eyes rolls back so he shuts it instead. That's when Harry slows the movement of his hips and catches Louis' jaws in his hand. "Look at me while I'm fucking you, Louis." He hisses, thrusts now becoming shallower by the second. "Look at me while I make you cum."

Louis opens his eyes but it's hooded, Harry feels so good inside him. His girth burns in the best way, and with his face close to his, Louis' mouth drops open in a silent moan.

Harry pulls out and reaches for the scarf adorning his wrists, detangling them from the frame before untying Louis' hands. He discards the item carelessly— throwing it away somewhere in the room. He kisses Louis' wrists gently, licking the indents that the scarf left. Before he pulls away from his body completely and lies next to him instead.

Louis sat back up, peering over Harry. His hand touches Harry's abs all the way up to his chest, caressing the hard surface of Harry's body. Harry catches his wrists, grasping it tightly into his fist. Louis looks over to the man and Harry kicks his chin up, "Go ahead and ride me, baby. Show me how good you can be for your daddy."

So Louis moves to straddle Harry, knees bent over at his sides. His hands slides up on Harry's body, and his ass hovers about the air as Harry aligned his cock to Louis' hole.

When Louis feels the head of Harry's shaft pressing into his entrance, he sinks the rest of the way slowly, easily. Harry moves his hands to the front of his thighs to claw at the skin. "You're so perfect," Harry confesses as Louis begins to roll his hips, and when Harry moves his gaze up to Louis' face, he moans as he looks into the eyes that are still so fucking blue.

Louis' hands are placed on Harry's chest, his hips swiveling faster, clenching his hole tighter to get Harry to moan louder. "This feels so good, daddy. You feel so good."

Harry hums as he sits up on his elbows, hands caressing Louis thighs before circling around to his ass. He grips both of Louis' cheeks, separating them and moaning aloud. "You're so good to me, my love. You treat my cock so well."

"Daddy!" Louis moans when his angle finally allowed Harry's cockhead to hit at his prostrate. He sits up, hands going to his nape the other to his lips, suckling on two fingers as he begins to bounce on Harry's cock.

"Oh, fuck yes baby." Harry hisses, planting his feet flat on the bed with his palms still holding Louis' asscheeks open. When Louis begins to drop down Harry pushes his hips forward. Their thrusts meeting midway making Louis scream in ecstasy.

Harry's teeth are bared, face contorted in immense pleasure. He keeps fucking up into Louis, and he slides his middle finger to Louis' hole, feeling where their bodies connect.

"Ah! Daddy, please!" Louis grips Harry's wrists, head thrown backwards and Harry sits up and slides his hand up to Louis' nape, breathing wildly. He presses their foreheads together— their mouth hangs open, hovering over each other. Louis gulps and seals Harry's lips with his own. The kiss is breathless, messy. A mesh of tongue and teeth.

They continue to move together, rocking their bodies onto each other. The candles around them are shivering, and Louis shivers with them. When Harry nips at his bottom lip that's when Louis grips his biceps and comes, all over their stomachs. He moans and his body becomes immobile, almost falling down but Harry keeps him in place as he fucks into him roughly, chasing his own orgasm.

"Baby, baby— I'm about to cum. I'm going to cum inside you, baby. I'm going to fill you up with my cum." He growled, hands now gripping Louis' waists to bounce him on top of his cock as he continues to snap his hips up.

With a final groan he holds Louis in place as he emptied inside the boy, teeth gritting as his chest rises and falls quickly.

 

*** * * ***

 

With Harry came the seasons. Harry Styles was an unpredictable man, impulsive and erratic. There are nights where he stares blankly at an even blanker canvas; those are the nights where Louis would wait for a body to press behind him on their bed, but nothing ever comes. Some days Louis can find him shaking. In those days Louis leaves the house for awhile, and would always come back home to shattered glasses on their marble-tiled floors. He cleans up after him, as he always does. Starting with their house and then moving on towards Harry's knuckles.

Harry did take drugs. Cocaine. Said it helped him a little— takes the edge off without feeling too low. When Louis found out it was already two months into their relationship, and he had cried. He threatened to leave. Harry didn't let him. "This isn't about you, Louis!" He had screamed, shouted in the depths of his studio. It rang into Louis' ears as he slid to floor in tears.  Harry had ripped every painting he had to shreds, throwing all of his art to the ground, the ceiling, the wall. Ripping off canvas after canvas. He had only calmed down when Louis threw himself into his arms. It's okay. He said. They're okay.

That night was also the first time they made love. That was when Louis had finally deciphered the difference between making love and fucking. They were in his studio with all kinds of disaster around them. Paint splattered everywhere, sheets of paper looking like confetti dust and Harry laid him down in the middle of it all. Harry had pushed into him slowly, so slowly –it burned. All the while he had whispered poetry into his ears. They both cried as Harry rocked into him, their mouths almost never leaving the other's. Eyes watching every twitch of their face.

But Louis knew Harry loved him. That's why he never leaves, not permanently at least. Harry was kind, he was gentle and sweet. But he is also closed-off and harsh. And Louis had never thought that he could love someone as much as he loved him.

 

*** * * ***

 

Harry likes showing Louis off. Every gallery, awards ceremony and parties he would always make sure Louis was displayed in his arms with the finest clothing hugging each curve of his body. He liked making people want his boy, making them salivate for a taste of what he has— but he never allowed anyone to touch him. Louis was his. His art.

Tonight he had dressed Louis into an Armani suit that was almost the same color as his eyes. Louis was reluctant at first to attend these kinds of evenings with him; prefers it when it was only them. Not liking crowded places. But Harry had too— this was his life. The extravagance that came along with his work. As soon as they entered Harry smirked, seeing eyes set on his boy. Thinking ' _Yeah, keep looking, he will never be yours_.'

"Everyone is looking at you, my love." Harry confessed, leaning over to whisper in Louis' ear. Their arms were looped around each other, Louis had a glass of champagne in his free hand. "You are the most exquisite thing in this room."

Louis hums. "I'm also only yours." For good measure, he adds in the most quiet whisper, " _daddy_." He watches Harry bite onto his bottom lip, signature smirk gracing his lips.

"Styles!" A voice called from behind them. Harry turns his head and waves his hand dismissively before looking over at Louis again.

" _Mon amour,_ go mingle." He un-loops Louis' arm from his, "I will find you later, baby. I'm just going to talk business, yes?"

"Mm, yes daddy." Louis takes Harry's face between his hands and leans up to press his lips to Harry's. "Don't be too long."

Harry nods his head once, his hands squeezing Louis' waists. "Be a good boy, okay? My good boy. Don't let people touch you. I will be watching you."

"Only if you promise to fuck me later."

Harry groans lowly. "Yes, my baby."

 

*** * * ***

 

Louis was admiring the painting before him. It was displayed in a large canvas, and it was obvious the colors used were oil. Louis admired the shapes slanted all over the abstract —different slopes intersecting at the middle. The sides seemed to be colored in harshly, while inside it looked soft as if a feather was used instead of a brush.

Harry's works consisted of people. He loved sketching the human form— simple sketches that portrayed people. But there are times he delved into impressionism; he told Louis that it was a rarity, he found it too difficult. Too raw.

"Is that your man's work?" Louis looked at his side to see a woman whose beauty was statuesque. She was tall and lean; her legs on full display over her mini dress. Her hair was blonde, it was pinned up into a messy bun with waves cascading down the front of her face.

Louis smiled. "No. It's not his."

"Of course it's not. This is too amateur." She sang. She grinned at him, extending a hand. "My name's Elizabeth. People call me Eli."

"Louis." He took the hand and shook it lightly.

"I know who you are, doll." She bit her lip. "Harry used to fuck me before you came along."

Louis was taken aback. Of course he knew Harry had been with other people. Plenty maybe but no one has yet to speak to him so outwardly about it before.

Louis didn't speak so she did. "You're so beautiful, I see now why Harry had thrown everyone aside for you."

"Uh —okay?"

She laughed. "I'm not trying to attack you. I just wanted to see his boy."

Louis glared. "I'm my own boy."

She stepped closer. Her eyes were green but they weren't like Harry's. They were moss and boring. Harry's were vibrant and alive and dead at the same time.

"You're not, doll. You're Harry's."

 

*** * * ***

 

"How do you want me to fuck you, baby?"

They were all over each other. When Harry had finished meeting with his clients he had pulled Louis back into his arms only for them to run outside and wait on their driver. In those short minutes, Harry had kissed him senseless outside the gallery and groped him for all eyes to see. Louis didn't mind one bit. He was Harry's.

In the car— Louis had slithered down Harry's legs, and sucked him off while the partition was up. Harry had muttered praises to the boy, with his hands tangled into his hair. Knowing when to pull him up and push him down.

"In your office, daddy, please?" Louis pouts. "Want you to bend me over your desk."

Harry's eyes darkened. He pulls Louis by the neck and aligned their lips together for a kiss. His palms slid down to Louis' ass to lift him up. He carried him all the way to his home office, before setting him down to the front of his desk, lips locked in a desperate kiss as they remove Louis' clothes from his body.

Harry pulls back and steps away from the desk. "Open my fly and take out my cock, baby. Be a good boy and suck me off."

Louis drops to his knees in front of Harry's crotch, breath coming out in pants. He pops open the button of Harry's trousers, sliding them down slowly before trailing kisses from his stomach to his bulge.

Louis pulls Harry's boxers down, his cock springing up and hitting his abdomen. Louis' mouth waters at the length and girth of it. He presses a short kiss to the tip. But then he feels Harry's hands combing his fringe and he looks up at the man. Harry surges down to take Louis' lips in a deep french kiss, his tongue invading Louis' mouth. Louis whines into it, loving Harry's mouth on his.

When he pulls away Louis takes Harry's cock in his hand, the other resting on Harry's thigh. He licks at the tip slowly, kittenish and short swipes of his tongue to the slit. Before enveloping his mouth around the head of his shaft completely. He sees Harry's abs beginning to tense, so he takes in more of his length inside his mouth.

"Mm, so good baby." Harry praises, his hand sliding over Louis' caramel locks again. Harry pushes his hips into Louis' mouth more, slowly, keeping Louis' head in place as he forces him to take more of his cock. Louis takes it like a good boy, and Harry adored him even more when he's like this; when Louis was so submissive and compliant.

He slips his cock away from Louis' mouth and Louis whines, desperate for him. Harry takes hold of his shaft, tracing the tip of his cock on Louis' already spit-soaked lips. His pre-cum grazes all over Louis' bottom lip, coating it in clear white.

Harry smirked as he watches Louis' body shudder. He drags the head of his cock to Louis' lower lip, pulling the plush flesh down slowly with his tip. "Open, baby."

Louis gagged when Harry suddenly fucked into him. But he lets him fuck his mouth, knowing Harry loved when he feels his throat constricting on his cock. Harry uses his mouth for his own pleasure, his hands twisting into Louis' hair as he ruts his hips to Louis' face hard with deep strokes.

"You are so sexy, baby. Letting me use your mouth like this." Harry sighs. "Let me see those blues, baby. Look up at me."

And Louis did. His pupils are blown— the light cerulean hue turning into midnight blue. Harry moans, and Louis moans with him. His throat vibrates around Harry's cock, his stomach tensing up from the feel of it. So he juts his hips against Louis' face again and again. Eye contact never wavering.

Harry pulls his cock out but keeps Louis in place. He tugs at Louis' hair hard— jerking his cock over his face. "I'm gonna paint your face with my come, baby. You'll be my masterpiece."

Louis widens his mouth, pushing his tongue out a little. He looks so sinful Harry's body begins to tense. Louis puckers his lip and kisses Harry's slit shortly, collecting the cum pooling on the head— Harry's hand moving so fast on his cock, pre-cum keeps bubbling at the tip.

"Please daddy, want your come."

Harry lets out a loud moan— almost guttural. His spunk lands all over Louis' face; his cheeks, his lips, a little on his lashes. Louis swipes his tongue all over his lips to collect Harry's come before standing up and winking at him.

Harry breathlessly laughs. "Little minx.."

 

*** * * ***

 

Harry does not sleep easily. Every night he'd hold Louis in his arms until the boy fell asleep. But when he feels Louis going lax and his breath coming out steady— he'd move out the bed and walk around the house.

It's a routine— a schedule of his that started long before Louis came into his life. He'd go to the kitchen and pull out a bottle of scotch. Not bothering with a glass, he'd move to his studio. Most nights he doesn't even paint. Doesn't even attempt to. Just stares out the window and watches the moon, if it was present. Some nights he'd just sit idle, drinking until the sun came up or until he passes out.

Louis finds him. Like he always does. Cleans him up, takes care of him. Doesn't really ask about anything these days. But Harry sees his eyes, the hurt in them. Harry always promises to change. To get better. To stop.

He never does.

**Author's Note:**

> might make a kind of prequel/sequel/in-between of this fic in the future. tell me what you think! :-)


End file.
